My Hidden Tears
by LiberatedMapleRose
Summary: Iceland is used to being depressed and alone, but when he forced to live with norway and the other Nordics for a few days, can he hide it? Rated T for blood and because I'm paranoid.
1. Solitude

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

My Hidden Tears

Iceland is used to being depressed and alone, but when he forced to live with norway and the other Nordics for a few days, can he hide it? Rated T for blood and because I'm paranoid.

Iceland used to be normal. He used to be happy, he used to know how to laugh, how to smile. Everyone used to be normal. Everyone used to skip around happily, not a care in the word. Iceland used to be surrounded by a family to warm him up in the cold, wintry nights of the Nordic region. But everything changed.

It began with fights. Iceland never knew, that their family would break off one day. It began with Denmark and Sweden bickering, but a day later, it would usually dissolve. But, then the fights got larger. Their quiet bickering turned to shouts, shouts turning into fistfight. Thankfully the others had been there to at least _try_ to hold them back, _try_ to comfort the young Nordic. But no one ever knew that the young Nordic cried himself to sleep every time they fought. Iceland learned to wear the mask at a young age. As he grew older, he tried to stop the fights before they began by asking if they would want to play or tell him a story. Little did he know back then, that the quarrelling nations made an effort not to fight in front of him, when he was sleeping, outside, or too focused on something else than them. But, how Iceland tried to smile again, how he tried to hide his worry for them, because that might erupt in another fight. One time, while the others thought he was asleep, he heard the nations fighting once more. He heard every slap of skin, every malice filled would, and it hit him hard like an icy whip. That day, he didn't sleep, looking at the abysmal darkness, softly crying and whimpering. Soon, he had stopped smiling, stopped laughing, stopped feeling, every fight numbing him to the bone. And soon, one by one, they all left Iceland, until he gained independance.

Once he gained independence, he solitude began.

Although he had made an effort to be happy once again, he couldn't bring himself to. He, although Iceland never wanted to admit it, had nightmares about his brother's fights. His head filled with _what if_s. _What if, I took off my mask and showed concern? Would we still be the same? What if?_ Soon, he started cursing himself for never trying hard enough, for not stopping them those night when they thought he was asleep. He took a small hunting knife, given to him by 'Big Brother' Norway before he left. He started cutting himself, every last piece of skin that could have saved his family. He was never concerned about the damage, being a nation, it would only cause a few scars here and there, then would heal. Iceland washed he hunting knife after every time, not wanting to raise unwanted questions. The first time, his tears fell onto the wounds, making them sting. But Iceland had always told himself that this was his punishment for not being a better brother, not holding his family tighter in his grasp. He didn't eat too often, had night terror, and sometimes, just hide in the snow, and watch his tears form beautiful crystallized droplets. He watched them shatter, like his sanity. He remember how, when he was little, how the others always treated him like glass. He was really more like metal. The glass lay in his sanity, broken glass.

When others would come to visit, he hid behind the same placid mask. He had learned, show any weaknesses, and the nations would exploit that weakness and use it against you. Every sad plea, every tear that came from his icy cold ice, hidden away by a placid mask that every nation learned to wear. It was like one of America's songs that the boisterous nation had forced him to listen to, but he remember the theme: Alone isn't the same thing as loneliness. He understood that. Even around the other Nordics, he was different. They all had blue eyes, he had violet. They had blond hair, he had white. He was always different.

Iceland lived in solitude, because of one thing he realized: you can't feel the pain of one being ripped away from you if you have no one.

~0~

**AN: Alrighty! I wanted to try me first multi chapter fic today. All I have been writing so far have been one shots, so yeah. Quick shout out to That One Eccedentesiast from being my first review! It really helped! I want to hear more from you! Help me with the plot! Tell me grammar mistakes! Tell me some emotional trauma for Iceland! Anythings good, just please review!**


	2. Attack

Iceland brearley cracked open his eyes to face the next day. The first thing that came into view was the wooden ceiling of his home, light streaming in from the window. yawning and stretching, the Nordic nation propped himself up with his hand, but still sleepy, movements slow and clumsy. Mr. Puffin flew to perch onto his shoulder, pecking persistently at his hair. Iceland didn't mind until the bird used its colorful break to nip hard at his ear. Iceland grumbled irritably, never really a morning person, set the puffin onto his head instead of should, and began to walk down the hallway to his kitchen.

Finding his plain styled kitchen, he made a mug of coffee, and sat down. Mr. Puffin picked at the open cereal, nibbling it loudly. Checking the fridge once more, finding it empty. Still hungry, he checked the cabinets. Nothing. Get. He was still kind of hungry, not having much of a dinner last night. Stomach growling once more, he lay back into bed, wanting to sleep off the hunger.

~0~

With blurry vision, the Icelander stirred form the world of sleep. All was how he had left it, except it was night. Mr. Puffin perched on the window sill, somehow able to keep balance. Stretching and yawning, Iceland got up groggily, he was still not able to shake off the hunger. Annoyed now, he slipped silently into the hall, not disturbing the smallest of creatures. Finding his way into the kitchen, Iceland felt a sudden uneasiness. Like he was being watched. He shook it off, telling himself not to be so childish. _Ghosts don't exist, after all._ But he couldn't shake off the feeling through. He hated that, having to live with Denmark as a child, the taller Nordic would pop out of nowhere to scare him for some laughs. Norway had always run to Norway, or his room. This developed into a need to constantly look over his shoulder as a child. However, Iceland trained himself to have amazingly good reflexes, if he should say so himself. Even to this day, you could have America shoot at him from twenty feet away and still be able to dodge. _I wonder if I could survive a high school dodge ball game, through, _ softly thinking to himself. _I hear those are brutal, but this is America, everything's brutal... _

Suddenly, his window broke, shattering into pieces. Pain erupted in his leg, causing the nation to stumble, and curse at the sight of the blood. _Am I under attack? Why? Shoot, my leg, I can't move… Please move! _Iceland grunted, pulling at his leg in despair. He had to find shelter, quickly. The kitchen wasn't too much of an option, the place had a large window. Dizziness caused his vision to blur, stumbling into the quickly fading picture of his kitchen. Pain erupted at his arm. Blood was everywhere. As a nation, he should be used to blood, plus, it would heal…

His mind spun. Who? What? Why? _Terrorists? No only our bosses know our status as nations…_

Crimson red spilling around him, flashing red, head throbbing, the world spun, mind filled with questions as the world faded to black.

~0~

Finland wouldn't have guessed what would have happened if he had felt nostalgic. If he hadn't decided to visit his fellow Nordic. He couldn't guess. And he didn't want to.

But there he was, sitting in a pool of crimson red, brother in arms, the house around them looking like a mini tornado had passed by. Books disheveled, curtains torn, furniture flipped over. Some of Iceland's valuables were missing, such as the music box Finland had given his friend during Christmas time. If it was any other day, he might of _Tsk_ed at the loss, but it could be replaced. He remember how there was a mall renideart inside, spinning to the tune of "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." As a child, Iceland always enjoyed listening to Finland's music boxes…

Getting back to the task at hand, Finland continued to patch up his friend, smiling at the old memories.

**AN: Thank you! I'ma back! I should be sleeping, or at least studying, but here I am, typing this up for you guys. It's 10:43 Pm and I WILL blame you for making me groggy in the morning. But whatever. I'll be introducing our other Nordics, so please be patient. I hate school. If I didn't have it, I'd be updating more. Review!**


	3. Warm Darkness

Darkness.

That basically explained where Iceland was. In life, and in his dream.

Darkness.

The Nordic nation had never been afraid of the dark, living in the icy, dark climate of the Nordic region. He had even enjoyed the darkness, hiding him from onlookers and searchers. Always being to run and hide in it, darkness was his friend.

But it was also his enemy.

If Iceland hadn't been in the dark when he was a child, maybe he would be able to save his family. Maybe, just maybe… Squeezing his eyes shut, Iceland let a cold tear drop into solitude.

Opening his eyes again, he saw that the shadows had taken shape of his 'family.' The darkness dissipated, only for Iceland to find himself in Denmark's living room. Sweden and Denmark where fighting. Iceland covered a small Iceland's ears, whose eyes were welling up with tears. Norway was trying to shove to two away from each other, his attempts futile.

The scene shifted.

Now, it was nighttime, and only Sweden and Finland where in the living room. The two were shoving belongings into bags, before swing them over their shoulders. Before exiting, Finland asked Sweden a question, and he simply shook his head. Iceland saw Finland mouth before he left,

_I'm sorry, Iceland._

Once again, a final time, the scene shifted.

Iceland could see a small, younger version of himself softly crying, Norway holding him close in the door frame. A backpack was slung over his old brother's shoulders, filled to the brim. Although Iceland couldn't hear what was being said, he remember every word in perfect detail.

"_Iceland, Oniichan has to leave now."_

_Iceland looked up at his older brother, eyes brimming with tears. A lump formed in his throat, hushed sobs echoing through his throat. Norway's eyes were so sad, glassy purple-blue eyes staring back at the young nation. At the sight, Norway burst into full-on sobbing, a feeling that can be only compared to a heart being ripped out of his chest over and over. At this Norway quickly grabbed the younger, rubbing small circles on his back, mummering gentle words._

_Reaching into his backpack, he took out a small knife in a sheath. Iceland stared at the knife for a minute, taking in its icy blue hilt, to the thread used to hold the pieces of leather that made the sheath._

"_Oniichan?"_

_Norway smiled a little at his younger brother, ruffling his icy white hair affectionately._

"_My small gift to you. Use it wisely."_

_After Norway left, Iceland examined the knife, taking it out of its sheath. Iceland teared up at the words engraved on it._

_Ást stóri bróðir er_

_It fitted Norway perfectly._

_A big brother's love._

_~0~_

'"-ould we do?"

"I don't know, but we can't leave him at home…"

"B-Be quiet! I think he's awake…"

Iceland stirred,eyelids twitching before finally fluttering open. He coughed slightly into his hand, something warm and wet covering it. Blood.

"What happened?"

All of the Nordics present shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to break the news to him. Those mainly consisted of Norway, of course, Finland, Denmark, and Sweden. Sweden's stoic green eyes scanned Iceland and the youngest Nordic fidgeted under his unwavering gaze. Finland seemed to be tending to whatever wounds Iceland had. Norway was looking at his actually biologic younger brother, eyes filled with concern, with was a rare thing, because Norway's eyes barely held any emotion. Denmark sat on the couch distracting himself from the others with what seemed to be Flappy Bird. However, his shoulders were unusually tight, and he kept swearing more that usual when he lost.

_Are they worried for me? Why?_ He thought questionably. _I wonder what that dream was about… No. Best not to think about that now…_

"What's going on?" Iceland pressed further.

All eyes shot to Finland, who fidgeted, grumbled, finished wrapping Iceland's arm, and finally gave a sigh of defeat. "I- well… kinda.."

Iceland, impatient, grumbled, "Spit it out already. It can't be that bad."

Finland met Iceland's cold eyes, and said it quickly, as if ripping of a band aid. "IkindafoundinyourhouseinguredandshotandIdidn'tknowwhattodosoIjustpatchedyouupbutyoudidn'thavemuchofafirstaidkitandyourhousewaslootedandIcalledtheotherNordicsandsohereweareatNorway'splace."

"_What?!"_

Finland winced at Norway's and Iceland's voices, shrinking away. Iceland decided to speak first. "Say that again…" A glare. "_Slower."_

Taking a deep breath, the Fin said slowly," I kinda found you in your house injured and shot and I didn't know what to do so I just patched you up the best I could but you really didn't have much of a first aid kit so I called the other Nordics. Also, your house was looted."

Iceland smiled best he could, just a smallest of smiles. It was a small trace of what he had when he was a child. "But where are we?"

"That would be my house, little brother."

Norway moved towards his younger brother before tentatively enveloping him in an embrace. "I was so worried," He whispered softly in his ear.

Tried again, feeling his eyes droop, Iceland once again fell asleep into his brother's warm, loving arms.

_**AN:**_**Thank you for all who have waited! I know, a bit late, but at least the chapter is a little longer. Shout out to Angstnator- here you go. I hoped that the Norway and Iceland scene was angsty enough for you. I also rather like angst as well. School has been a b*tch, but at least we have MKJ day off. Maybe I'll update if I feel angsty enough. Review or I WILL get Denmark's ax.**


	4. Once United

Iceland slowly stirred, lifting his eyelids a couple inches before allowing them to flicker open and take in his surroundings. Yawning, he examined the wooden floor, the pale blue ceiling, and the quiet snores he heard across the room. He immediately rolled over, ignoring his aching sides, to face the bed adjacent to the bed Iceland was sleeping in currently. Norway lay there, snuggled into the warm navy blue comforter. Although he couldn't see his face he could tell his brother was smiling.

Hopping up from bed, stretching, and stepped quietly out of the room, quiet as a mouse. Where was he? This wasn't his house. Then it hit him.

Norway's House.

Iceland felt the world spin around him, colors blurring. He slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping the only thing that felt real- the hunting knife. Voice from his past whispered in his ears and he tried to find his way to the bathroom of Norway's house.

"_Shut up, Norway. No one cares."_

"_I'll at least stay for my little brother."_

"_I'll protect you, Iceland."_

"_You can call me Oniichan."_

"_Oniichan has to go now."_

"_I love you, little brother."_

By the time Iceland reached the bathroom, tears streamed silently down his face, a lump in his throat. It only caused him to grip the knife tighter. All Norway had done for him- it was all ripped apart from him before he could say, "Please don't go."

Without hesitation, he willed the knife to cut into his skin, marking it once more. He didn't care what happened to him after that. He was so pathetic. He didn't deserve to be their brother. That's why he always said he wasn't Norway's brother. The others always thought he was just arrogant, be they never saw behind his placid mask. One good time about that- they never saw his tears, so he never needed to be burdened by him. He wish he could de. He didn't deserve to live. But was pretty sure they would be happy to gain extra land. No one would miss him. That was just they way the world worked with nations. With his life. It was a dog-eat-dog world. He accepted it.

Iceland stared as the crimson dripped slowly down his porcelain arm. A twisted smile appeared on his face. This was right. He need this. The world would be better off without him. This was better for the world. And the blood was so beautiful. Red on white. Glittering teardrops of blood.

The sound of a clock shook Iceland out of his thoughts. Swiftly cleaning his skin, bathroom, and beloved hunting knife, Iceland curiously stepped out into the hallway. If he was moved to Norway's house for whatever reason the older had, he had hoped they at least brought his puffin. Doing a soft whistle for Mr. Puffin, Iceland saw the small bird swiftly fly to him in a blur of color before landing on his shoulder. They bird nipped at his ear, not annoyingly, but affectionately, almost to say, _Are you alright?_ Iceland smiled, ruffing the puffin's feathers as a father would do to his son's hair, and set him on his head. The bird immediately relaxed in the spot, making Iceland's head feel his a small, tiny fireplace.

Finding his way to Norway's kitchen, he immediately realizing a proper meal for at least a day. Yawning, he made himself a small sandwich, and took out creal for Mr. Puffin to nibble on. His eyes lazily scanned the kitchen befowre landing on a small object. Quickly finishing his sandwich, he stood up, threw away the napkin he hand been using as a plate, and picked up the small item. He felt the small wooden frame, the feel of the cold glass. Another lump forming in his throat, he looked at the small photo, not even noticing the tears that threatened to spill over.

"_Guys, check this out!"_

_All of the Nordics glanced up at Denmark, who was triumphantly holding up a camera. It was one of the ones where you took a picture and it would come out of a slot. Iceland walked up and looked at the device in awe, only for the older to grin back. Norway walked over and picked up his younger, Iceland cuddling into his chest, enjoying the warmth. Denmark had pulled Finland and Sweden into the photo as well, the latter being a little difficult, but that only ended in half-hearted protests. _

Iceland smiled at the photo. Denmark had both his arms wrapped around Norway and Finland, latter smiling like it was the best day of his life, holding up a peace sign. Norway lightly smiled and so did Sweden, although he looked a little confused, holding up a tentative peace sign like Finland.

And there he was, Iceland, laughing and smiling at the camera, ignorant of what was to become of his 'family.' Oh, how ignorance was bliss.

And Iceland just stood there, wondering, _When did it all fall apart?_

**AN: Hey guys! Hope this was angsty enough! I know this is criminally short for such a long wait, and I'm really, REALLY sorry! I've been wanting to do that photo **_  
><em>**scene for a while now, but haven't gotten to it yet… Well, read and review, I need more ideas! Special thanks to Art4Life1 and Angstnator, those two! You guys are great, request ideas you want for oncoming chapters! Sorry, Life and school are messing my life with endless projects and tests, but, hey! Another 3 day weekend! I'll update ASAP. 3**


	5. Trapped in a Dream

Norway, to the very least, was a bit surprised when he woke up.

When he opened his eyes, leaving the world of dreams, he woke to silence. Iceland wasn't in bed, which was a surprise, because he was never a morning person, and he was injured. He always remembered that when Iceland was still a little kid, he almost always slept in. And his little brother was injured.

Worry overtaking the older nation, he began to search for his little brother. The very reason that made Norway bring Iceland to his house was to protect him. Where had his brother gone? What would happen if terrorists got him? _It's too early for this,_ the rational part of his brain spoke. _Get some food first, then see if he was taken._ Stomach rumbling at the thought of food, Iceland reluctantly agreed to eat some food first.

And again, Norway was, even more so, surprised when entered the kitchen.

Norway knew his brother. Iceland wouldn't let you see him cry, no matter what emotional trauma he was going through. He would always hide in a cabinet, or cry softly before going to bed. Norway had no idea how he knew this, he just did, after a couple years decades living with him, not to mention being closer to him than the rest of the Nordics by a _long_ shot, you began to know someone. So, when it came to Iceland, he was astonished seeing the younger's tears fall slowly onto a picture frame.

Before he realized it, Norway was already tapping his younger's shoulder lightly, calling out for the young nation. No reaction came from Iceland. Realizing his attempts were futile for the meanwhile, he gently peered over Iceland shoulder to see why his little brother was crying.

Norway's breath hitched at the picture. It was _that_ picture. That day, those days, before all the fighting broke out between the fellow Nordics. They were all happy, laughing, cheerful. Why would Iceland, little brother, be crying at such a _happy_ picture…?

~0~

"_Iceland!"_

Iceland blinked in surprise. He was still watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes, little Iceland jumping up and down, Denmark giving everyone a noogie, Norway and Finland playing a game of chess. It was so peaceful~

"_Little brother!"_

Where was the voice coming from? It was Norway's, but he was playing chess… So peaceful. Oh, now little Iceland was being carried around on Denmark's back. Iceland was happy, laughing, actually _smiling_… He had to wonder when was the last time Iceland truly smiled.

"_Wake up!"_

Wake up? From what? Who would want to wake up from this? They were a family again…

Iceland felt sharp pain erupt from his face, the world, memory shattering and fading to black. His hand cupped his wounded cheek, Iceland blinking open his eyes to a worried Norway. Confused, he tilted his head, asking, "What's wrong Norway?"

Iceland could see his brother stiffen. He looked different now, slightly taller… wait, hold on, was he in a memory?

Scanning his brother's worried figure, he mentally groaned. Norway had wakened him up from a memory! Shoot, how was he supposed to cover this? He occasionally slipped into a memory every so often, but he had always been alone when that happened. He would usually stay like that for an hour or so, then wake up…

_It's alright, just pretend to be naive… like nothing happened… sure of course he's going to believe me! _He said sarcastically in his mind. _What to do, what to do…_

Iceland blinked when he felt Norway tapping on his arm. "Are you alright?" He asked, concern glittering in his eyes.

"Y-Yeah. I am. Why wouldn't I be?" _Shoot, I almost slipped up! It's hard to lie when Norway gives me those eyes…_

If Norway suspected something, he didn't make it too conspicuous. "Alright, then."

Then his eyes widened, realising, "Why were you crying, then?"

It was Iceland's turn to be surprised. Blinking, he quickly wiped off the tears, and stared at them in his hand. He was crying…? It took Iceland all of his will not to keep other tears from flowing freely. Stiffening, he asked, "Why am I here?"

"For protection. Can't have people shooting my little brother." His body relaxed s he said the answer, but stiffened as he saw Norway's eyes. _We'll talk later_ they said.

Iceland was just about to internally groan, just when the door opened.

"Hello, guys!"

**AN: Did I just make a cliffhanger? I don't even know who's at the door, just popped into my mind and onto the page. Please review! As promised, I wrote on my 3 day weekend! **

**be glad! Not please review and don't be afraid of scary old RRRRRRRRUUUUUSSSSSIIII-A-A-A-A-A-A-A~! **


	6. Two Sides of a Coin

"Hello guys!"

Norway groaned for Iceland. "What do you want, Dane?"

Denmark let out a good natured laugh. "What, I can't visit once in a while?"

Norway scoffed, retorting back. The two stuck up a conversation. Iceland smiled, slipping away silently, into his room. It was nice that the Norwegian had somebody, but who did he have? He rubbed his hand against the cold wooden door, feeling it's grooves. It seemed, once again he had time for himself. What to do?

He let out Mr. Puffin's signature whistle, and as always, the bird came flying at his in a flurry of black. He perched on his shoulder, annoyingly picking at his ear. It seemed he was back to his old self. Iceland set the bird on his head, who, as always, nestled in the cold locks of the albino country.

Looking around, Iceland found himself an old sketchpad and pencil. He smiled quietly to himself. when the Icelander didn't feel _too_ self loathing, he would draw. Actually, for years for he had started cutting, he drew. And became quite good at the hobby, if he should say so himself.

Tapping the pencil tip onto the paper, he froze. _What to draw...what to do…_ He tapped the pencil against his wrist, humming softly. Iceland smiled, looking to the ceiling. _Just follow the pencil._ He closed his eyes,pencil sketching out by itself. Iceland began to hum louder. Sketching faster, he let the pencil do as it wished. He wondered what he was drawing- maybe something he had seen before?

Letting the hand rest, picture completed, he looked down. Oh, how the picture brought back memories. It was all of the Nordics scrunched in a tent, an aerial view. Little Iceland was snuggled between Finland and Norway, Denmark to Norway's side, and Sweden to Finland's side. He gently caressed the picture and he had remembered what he was humming- a lullaby that the Nordics, especially Norway, sang to him when he was little.

_Sleep, softly, oh child of mine, _

_Let the cold wintry wind whine,_

_Sleep, oh child safe for danger,_

_Sleep you safe from danger,_

_My eyes, they dim,_

_And still the same,_

_I invite you to rest your head, my small friend,_

_The shadows are creeping, oh now I must go,_

_Sleep, my child of ice and snow._

Iceland smiled gently as he sang the words to himself. He had no mother to sing it to him, but the Nordics gladly took up that role. Like a big family.

Iceland caressed the paper once more. His eyes slimmed in curiosity. The Tear marks were on the _right _side of the page, so he must have drawn on the wrong side. Or he could have just made a stupid mistake, but, what the heck.

He flipped the page

To the very least, Iceland was he drew must have been what he had imagined as a kid when he would say up those torturous nights and listen to them bicking. Norway's eyes were sad, bloody and bruised, saying something to Denmark. Iceland cringed at the purple and black bruises, hidden slightly by his torn sailor suit. Tears glittered in his eyes, a look of defeat etched on his face. His white, usually pristine white suit was painted red.

Denmark was almost a reflection. He looked at Norway sadly, also tired, weary, bruised, and bloody. Dried blood could be seen on his tattered jacket, tears dried. Bruised also littered his body. The background was black and red. On their lips, one word- Iceland. Iceland choked, but couldn't look away. And above the two fighting nations, word etched in blood…

"THIS IS WHAT YOU DID"

That was it. Only then did Iceland see that it was _his_ blood, bleeding from his finger, that painted the picture. It pooled onto his shirt. He couldn't take it. He wanted it to end. He let it pool into his shirt, as he ran to the bathroom. The with his help, the crimson grew.

And grew.

And grew.

He _laughed_.

Because it was him.

_My name is Iceland, and I am the one._

_I am the one who brought ruin to my family._

_I am the one who broke those bounds, _

_I am the one to spill the blood._

_**AN**_: *looks back* **What did I just write…? I'm kind concerned for MY sanity now. Actually, scratch that. I have no sanity. Please review. I took the lullaby from Friend from Hetaoni. I took the I AM part from reference from my religion class, I think. I really like this. Please review. If I have 15 reviews by this weekend, i will try to make a long chapter, or maybe an Omake at the end of next chapter. **


	7. Discovery

_Urghh… What happened…?_

Iceland groggily moved his hand in front of his face, hiding his eyes from the offending light, groaned. He felt like Hell. No, worse than that, even. Had the other Nordics found a way to get him drunk again…?

He tried to push his arm behind his back, arm flopping back into place. This was not going well. _Where am I again..? _

He scanned his surroundings, memories from the past week flying back, although none from the night before. _Denmark came to visit...then what. I think I went to my room, then what?_

He groaned, not remembering. He hated this feeling, being _absolutely_ ignorant, _useless…_ What had happened? He probably went to sleep, right? No, something was missing… what was it?

Humming softly to himself, he finally found the strength to get up, although stumbling, and rather loudly, at that, out of bed. He checking Norway's bed, empty, and tidied up as it had been the night before. He tilted his head in confusion, humming softly in bewilderment. _Where had he gone this time~?_

He tapped his feet, rocking on his heels. He seemed to have time to himself once again. Shaking off his headache, he decide to wander Norway's house, because, of course, he had never stayed there for long periods of time. The house was old, and Iceland explore the house with childlike curiosity. He wandered the long hall of the Nordic's house, enjoying the soft creeks of the wooden boards under his bare feet, memorising every hall, every soft groove of the wooden hall, the soft feel of the rugs beneath his feet. The felt the cool walls, remembering every groove, every pattern of the wallpaper. He wandered for what could have been hours, minutes, but as long as he pleased. He wandered, finding the small fireplaces in the certain room, certain items. For example, the more he wandered the halls, he found candles bolted to the wall, once used when there wasn't electricity. He felt the metal carefully, enjoying the feel of the cold metal pressed to his skin. _So wonderfully cold~_

He arrived at the attic. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the old, musty, smell. Dust flew into clouds wherever he stepped old items from the earlier 1900s clattered here. Iceland sat upon an old crate, felling the wooden grooves once again, taking in the scene. As feeling the grooves, his colds ran over some cold metal. _What's this…?_

He picked up two items- an old pocket watch, and an old necklace. The necklace shined, gleamed at the youngest Nordic, who decided to examine the strange object first. The black cord was worn, but smooth. Small wooden beads were littered throughout the necklace, but centered at the middle of the necklace. Iceland let his hand pass over the old wooden bead, paint faded and disappearing. He could only imagine what they looked like newly- bright, colors of white, blue, green, red, what ever the owner would have liked. At the center lay a rather peculiar stone, entwined in wire, giving a gather strange bluish-purple-green glow. The very tip was white, color deepening into a cold, but somehow warm purple. Iceland realized that whoever cut the stone must have not been a professional- the rock was anything but smooth, but he enjoyed feeling the grooves nonetheless. It was rough, sharp, but it wasn't meant for violence. It was meant to be imperfect- because whoever made it was sick of the perfect cut stones. Iceland agreed with them wholeheartedly. The world wasn't meant to be perfect. But people always strived for perfection- an impossible goal. Iceland smiled, putting his head through the cord.

Iceland then turned to the pocket watch next. It was antique, no doubt, but there was no sign of rust, not a dent on the old pocketwatch. The engravement pattern was a grapevine lining the sides regaly, a crest on the middle, which consisted of a dragon curled in the middle. The back seemed to be what was a clock, but only one hand. Where the twelve, three, six, and nine were large diamonds, larger than the others. The clicked it open, only to listen to a rather sad melody. It sounded sad, filled with mecholonchy before stopping. Iceland looked at it in defeat, casting it away. The echo of the old pocket watch on wood was a hollow sound, making Iceland feel empty inside. He sighed, picking it up, pocketing it, feeling the grooves once last time.

He stood, in a daze, and wandered the large attic once more. It wasn't dark, having windows and it was nearly midday. He wandered through the maze of wooden crates, stopping every so often to look at an old artifact- a necklace, doll, a tattered piece of clothing. Sometimes he sat upon a crate, grazing at the old attic ceiling, humming the old song that the pocketwatch once played.

Very soon, he had found a mirror. It was covered under a tarp, dusty,but beautiful nonetheless. The workmanship done to the fame must have costed hundreds, yet the mirror was buried and hidden away in the back of the attic. iceland saw little to no reason why anyone would have thrown the antique mirror away. If you polished the mirror a bit, no, if you just wiped the dust off…. it would look good as new. Iceland tapped his foot, looking at the still tarp covered mirror. He really knew he shouldn't… _Norway must have some reason he hid this away… Or maybe he's just weird like that. After all, Norway's, no, all of the Nordics are weird… A pick wouldn't hurt anyway…_

Iceland pondered on these thoughts for a little while, unconsciously fingering his new necklace, before removing the tarp. He stared at his reflection, as it stared back. Nothing out of the ordinary. _So it's just an ordinary mirror… I knew it! Norway was just being weird! _Iceland thought to himself triumphantly. Only until he realized that the mirror image seemed to be laughing, which Iceland wasn't doing at the moment. Iceland's eyes widened, his reflection eyes slimmed, and mouthed to his parallel _How foolish,_ with a smirk. The parallel raised his arms, and Iceland watched in horror as the parallel's sleeve was dripping red, blood. His eye were filled with joyful insanity as he the parallel looked at his real-world double as if to say _Lookie! Look at this! Isn't it wonderful?~_

Iceland stared back, paralyzed in horror, only one question falling off his lips-

"Who are you?"

The parallel laughed again. _I am you. You are me. We are one in the same. Brilliant, no~?_

Iceland didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to think, mind blank. Before he knew it, he was running across the attic, tripping, but as fast as he could. His mind was blank. He didn't notice anything around him, until he fell down a hole.

Iceland blinked, finally realizing what he had been doing. he had run, not know where he was going, and now he was lost in some room. Man, why didn't he think this through?

_Ah, better find a way out, _Iceland told himself, although he was still scared on the inside. But he would never admit it. The room was rather small, only a piano and a few bookcases lining the wall were in the room. He ran his fingers across the spines of book, trying to find something useful or to at least pass the time until someone found him. It was past noon now, almost six, according to the pocket watch, someone was surely looking for him.

Nothing caught his interest in the bookcases. Iceland wandered, a thing he seemed to being doing a lot today, towards the piano. He sat down on the piano bench thinking. If he 'explored' more, he would only make himself more and more lost. It was probably best to stay here and wait for Norway to find him. How long would that take?

Tired of thinking, Iceland ran his hands against the smooth piano keys. _Maybe I can play something…_ Iceland let his hands tentatively press the white wooden keys, testing them lightly.

Before he knew it, Iceland was playing a piano version of _Magic Mirror_. Hong Kong had showed the song to him in his free time, even though he didn't get to see the Asian country a lot. _I wonder how Hong Kong's doing…_

And Iceland stayed there, left with his piano, song, and thoughts.

**AN: DONE! I really should be studying for my Switzerland and Austria test, but my mind was like PROCRASTINATE! and yeah. I was listening to Rin and Len's Magic Mirror and Mirror's Magic over and over while writing this, so yeah. Hope you liked it. I was planning on doing 2p for the mirror part, but wanted to thrust some other insanity in Ice's face. Read and Review!**


	8. Corruption of the Mind

If Iceland was in a good enough mood, or at least had enough energy, he would have probly smacked his brother. Or even run down the halls.

But no, after all that Iceland did _not_ have enough energy to do the plethora of things he wanted to do to his elder, and he _certainly_ did was not in a very punch-you-in-the-face-because-of-embarrassment mood. Nor was he pleased with what his brother was doing, but he didn't really care. _Being carried like helpless ragdoll by older brother_ wasn't on his bucket list, but at least it had given Iceland time to think.

First of all, that _horrid_ mirror. What _was_ that!? It was frightening at the least to see his 'parallel' as he had began calling him doing such things.

_**Aw… Care you really that scared of me~?**_

Yet again, if Iceland had the energy, he would had jumped, but being restrained by his brother's back limited such movements.

Iceland widened his eyes in shock as he heard soft, insane giggling in the back of his mind. _**Once you see me, I stay with you forever~**_

Iceland gave the mental equivalent of tilting his head in confusion. _Who are-_

A flash of red. Iceland almost cringed at the memory of that child, of _him_ in that mirror. _Wait-! Are you-!?_

More giggling, and in his mind's eye, Iceland saw his parallel smile softly at his. He, the parallel was in a mirror outfit of Iceland's, although the undershirt was a black and jacket a creamy white. _**You put the pieces together faster than I thought you would~ **_The boy grinned. _**I'm so proud~!**_

Iceland shook his head, earning himself a glance from Norway, but at least derailing that train of thought.

...Or so it seemed.

_**I'm still here!**_

_Shut up and let me think._

Iceland could feel himself, no, the parallel, frown.

Iceland brought himself back to the mirror. And the attic. Iceland unconsciously fingered the necklaces pendant. It seemed to chill in his touch, glowing faintly. He also thought about the pocket watch- which was still in his pocket. Norway had such strange things in the attic. Iceland idly wondered what else was up there.

_**Oh, plenty. If you looked around some more, I bet you would have found the Ice Sword, maybe even the troll pendant, or even-**_

_Alright, alright! I get it, there was a lot of stuff up there. Hey, I am stuck with you 24/7?_

A moment of wondering. _**Yeah, I am basically you, but I honestly don't know~ Mr. Cut,cut,cut,cut,cut~**_

Iceland squeezed his eyes shut. _Stop-_

_**CUT CUT CUT, Oh~ Look at the pretty blood~ Lookie Ice! **_

When Iceland shut his eyes, he saw blood, drip- drop- dripping like a waterfall. _It _is _kinda nice~_

Iceland shook his head. No, no, NO! This was just the parallel, not him, it wasn't him, not Iceland-

_**Oh, but I am you~**_

Iceland felt something akin to two invisible hand forcing his head up. And what he saw- a boy, his parallel, smiling at him, same eyes, skin, clothes, hair-it was _him._

**Oh- Even this-**

The parallel cleared his throat, as if preparing a speech,

_**I'm not calling you big brother, Norway…**_

Iceland was horrified. And it wasn't the fact that he was talking to himself, it wasn't that this person would leave for what seemed what would be a very long time, it wasn't even the insane look in his eyes. It was because-

_**No matter how much you refuse, I **_**am** _**you, Iceland~**_

It was because it was himself.

**AN: Yas- I got dis done before school! And to the review about Hetaoni- yeah, I got that from hetaoni. If I can't think of anything- Hetaoni. Please review! And I need help with plot **_**desperately.**_


	9. Insane Laughter

Iceland stared dizzily at the ceiling. What time was it again? Where was he? He had a familiar feeling of deja vu. However, that had happened a lot this week- along with several other strange things. Had Iceland gone mad?

He stared brazenly at the ceiling. He was bored. Norway, deeming it safe,went to get groceries. Not he was alone. After the getting-lost-in-your-brother's-house incident, Iceland crossed wandering off his things-to-do-while-bored list. He didn't need to be lost in the house again, especially after Denmark and Norway had found him asleep in that piano room he had found.

Boredness eating him up, he decided to have one option. Drastic boredness called for drastic measures.

_Hey, Egil, you there?_

_**Always~**_

Iceland smiled at the strange, familiar voice. The new voice in his head seemed like a brother- more so than Norway was, his actual brother. It seemed less lonely,as if his world had widened to reveal a psychopathic brother he never knew of.

_I'm bored…_

_**Wannna explore the attic? Wanna introduce you to someone~**_

Iceland cocked an eyebrow at this.

_I don't need anymore friends like you, thanks._

_**Oh, how you wound me!**_

_Sure buddy. Sure._

…

…

… _**Hey, Ice, can I try s'methin'?**_

_Huh? What do you want-?_

_**I want to try something…**_

_Depends._

_**Since you're bored, and I have never explored this place properly, I wan- You know what? Screw this. I'll show you~**_

Before he could protest, Iceland felt a feeling akin to somebody forcing him back, pulling the back of his shirt.

Before he passed out, he could hear the cheerful little giggles of his parallel.

~0~

Iceland was confused. What just happened-?

Iceland let his hand pat the floor around him uncertainly. Skin met tile, as well as something wet and sticky. Although his mind told him it wasn't the best idea, and he really didn't know why he was doing it, he lifted his hand toward his mouth, and licked it. Metallic… yet pleasing to the taste~

Eyes flicking open, Iceland smiled softly at the pool of blood around him. What a pleasant surprise~!

_**Ne~ You like it Iceland~?**_

_Hm.. Yeah Egil~ What did you do~?_

_**Ahh- I wandered a bit and did this~**_

Iceland found his way to the hunting knife, feeling the cool edge of his beloved blade. He let it caress his skin, smiling when it cut in. The blade passed swiftly over the porcelain skin, dying it red, leaving marks that would last a few hours, or if he was lucky, days! Iceland traced elaborate patterns into his skin. He loved this feeling it was giving him, energy tingling all over his body, electrifying his every move, making his heart beat rapidly. It hurt, but in a pleasant way…

Iceland let out a giggle of laughter.

~0~

Norway huffed into the cold wind, enjoying the white puffs coming from his mouth. He snuggled into his Norwegian flag scarf, hoisting up the plastic bags he was carrying. He dropped the bags once reaching his doorstep, unlocking the door. His eyes widened.  
>Was that <em>laughter <em>he heard…?

**AN; Here ya go. Its been, what, a week? More than that? So sorry, I really haven't been in a angst mood… Also, whenever I would try to post something, the computer would go all wacko on me...Please reveiw!**


	10. Worry

Norway knew his brother. Of course he did. He enjoyed that one _kräftskiva _Sweden and Finland decided to throw on his birthday when he was little. He had that one puffin he had found when he was little. Well, of course Norway remembered Mr. Puffin, Iceland had asked him to make that bow the puffin always wore. He knew of Iceland's strange obsession with fish. Norway had enough information on Iceland to write a short biography for him. He knew his brother.

And, or course, he knew that he brother almost never laughed, let alone _giggled._

Norway felt his heart beat quickly, wondering in uncertainty. Had it been that long since had seen his brother? No, his brother would never change so drastically in the time they had spent apart. No nation changed that quickly over a period of time, unless something drastic happened( But that was a story for another time).

But back to Iceland. Norway quickly dropped the bags, running to where he had heard the giggling. Slowing to an uncertain speed-walk, the wondered what going on. He had at least hoped that Iceland hadn't gotten lost in his house again. It took a good couple hours to find his little brother sleeping on the piano bench. Not to mention that the cursed Dane was there. That was embarrassing, and he did _not_ want that to happen again. He vowed to be a better brother, like the one he was always trying to get Iceland to call him.

He just hoped he wasn't too late.

~0~

At the sound of the door, Iceland head snapped so fast, he could get whiplash.

Snapping back to his senses, he panic. What would Norway think if he saw this? What would happen? He didn't need to be caught doing such….things. How would cover this up?

_Maybe I could lock the door?_

_No, Norway could pick a lock in a matter of seconds._

_Barricade the door?_

_No, that would make Norway more suspicious. And god knows if he has the Dane with him, Denmark would be happy to knock down Norge's doors._

Humming in frustration, Iceland sat on the door, debating his options. He could always….

_Hey Egil?_

_**Lock the door.**_

_What? But Norway is-_

_**Do what I say.**_

_But-_

Despite his protests, Iceland's arms and legs went slack, before, and without his consent, moving quickly across the bathroom to lock the door. Then, he, no, _Egil_, turned on the...

_Oh! Clever._

_**Yes, yes, just say you're taking a shower….**_

_I know. Who do you think did this method to avoid the Dane all those years ago?_

_**Good point.**_

Iceland proceeded to look the door. He then quickly found towels to clean his mess, then hopped into the shower.

The rest of the day was spent with raised eyebrows from Norway, until the young nation finally drifted off to sleep.

~0~

Norway nervously fiddled with his fingers, much like he used to when he was younger. He was worried for Iceland. So, so very worried. That's why he called a meeting. Just a meeting, between the Nordic. He looked to the staircase. That was the staircase which led to the second floor hallway, which led to the room containing his little brother.

Norway's eyes darted to the wall clock, despite the watch on his wrist. It was almost 11:55 and the other Nordics were late. He let his heels dig into the carpet in frustration, tapping his foot light. Ever since he found Iceland, even before he knew they were brother, he had always made sure to take special care of the young Nordic. His land was so very fay, who knew what it was like to be isolated like that…

Norway hoped his brother _never _had to feel like that again.

~0~

Finland was simply strolling down to Norway's house for the Nordic meeting he called. He didn't know why, exactly, the meeting was called, but, yet again, the Norge happened to be confusing.

But something caught the Finn's eye. Blood. Blood red. It was a color nations all knew too well, having seen it more than they could count. On battlefields, staining the ground, on humans, on uniforms. The Finn inched over to the red object, hesitantly picking it up. It was a cloth-like substance with dried blood. A towel, he guessed.

But what would a towel be doing outside of Norway's bathroom window..?

**AN: SOoooo ssooorrry! It been SUCH a long time, but I haven't been able to write this! I blame school and all that blah, but the next week is Terra Nova so i might be able to post more chapters! Review please!**


	11. Dispair

Norway scanned the room. Much to his displeasure, all of them had arrived late, the earliest being Finland at 12:10. however, instead for being relieved by the Finn's presence, he was only faced with more problems.

_Knock._

_Norway's head perked up. even though nations didn't need much sleep, stamina being greater than human, they did need enough of it and got tired like a normal human being. The knocking at the door had awakened the Norwegian from his close-to-sleep daze, stirring the nation. He walked to the door in quite a tiered manner, stretching his half-sleep limbs. he wondered who would arrive first. Who would he prefer to arrive first? Denmark? No, maybe later, for his presence was too loud and annoying. Sweden? Huh. Norway didn't mind the Swede's presence at all, but there wouldn't be much for them to talk about until the others came. They would make small talk, weather, politics, and all that. Finland? He wouldn't mind either, just the fact that the Finn seemed a little fidgety when nervous. And he probably would be, with the subject at hand…_

_Finally reaching the door, his hand rested on the cold, metallic knob while Norway contemplated his decisions of hosting a Nordic meeting. Why did he call them again? Surely he could solve it himself, he could fix Iceland by himself… _

_But before he could wonder any longer…_

_Knock, Knock._

_Norway shook himself out of his thoughts. He couldn't just leave the fellow Nordic there, even if there was a possibility it was Denmark. He opened the door, only to find a disheveled Finland holding… was that blood?!_

~0~

Rain. Drakness.

The rain. It felt like bullets. What… was was going on? Why… How?

Iceland sprinted across the terrain, biting his lip so hard that he tasted blood.

What was going on?

Iceland didn't know. But, there he was, sprinting for his life, jumping from piece of ice to the other, but what was going on?

All that knew he knew that he was running, he was scared, and he was injured. His muscles burned and his skin bleeded, but he kept going. He felt like someone had put him in a compressor, taken him out, and skretched him to his limits. His skin was cold, but the warm blood that oozed down his body almost made it bearable. Through the dark terrain ahead, he saw a simple light swirling with life, emitting a lush green to the cold landscape.

At that point, Iceland made a goal- to reach that place. It seemed safe, happier, like his life used to be.

Iceland tried to blink away the tears, but they kept coming. But something was different. They kept filling his vision, blurring the world ahead. Despair crept into Iceland heart as the safe, green light dimmed into nothingness. Water clogged his throat and nose, not letting him breath. Iceland thrashed in the water, but somehow, it made him sink. Iceland closed his eyes and said his final goodbyes- to the Nordics, his sorrys, the wished. He mentally poured it out, as if they could hear him.

Just as all seemed to dim, a hand appeared in front of Iceland. He grasped it, wanting the pain to stop, the misery, everything.

Everything. To. Just. Stop.

Just as he was pulled out of the water, pain erupted in his stomach, warm blood pouring out of it. Iceland's hands found their way to the wound, cutting the skin open at a knife. Iceland pulled it out, blood still gushing, sloshing onto the snow in front of him. Wiping off some blood, he saw-

What?

Why?

How?

It was the hunting knife. _Norway's _hunting knife.

Why?

wHy?

In front of him, eyes dimming, he saw him.

_Him._

Egil-

No, Norway, dressed in the dress he used to wear as a kid-

Now, Sweden and Finland,

Now Denmark,

Now a mirror, showing himself.

wHY?

Was etched on the mirror, in blood.

Then the mirror disappeared, showing green light.

A swirling light, inside a green forest, much like the one's Norway would describe to him in stories. It was littered with blood, corpses of Denmark, Sweden, Finland and Norway scattered about. Trees that must have once been lush were painted the color red. And little Iceland sitting in the middle, mouthing to him,

**dO YoU WaNT tO PlAY?**

The last thing Iceland heard was the soft music of the old pocketwatch…

**AN: SO SORRY, but lifes been a ache, schools been awful, and I can't keep up! Please help, read and review!**


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